Rage
by Draco's Secret Lover
Summary: Draco sneaks up on Ron, who was sitting alone in a tower at night. **This features VIOLENT boy-on-boy slash, and should be read at the readers discretion.**
1. Default Chapter

Author's Notes: I do not own any recognized materials. Please do not sue me. All I own is some floppy disks and Harry Potter and Buffy books.  
  
  
RAGE  
  
  
Sometimes, late at night, he liked to come up here with Harry's invisibility cloak. He had never told anyone, it was a private thing, you know? It was a place to think, to have all to yourself. To do whatever you wanted, to whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. When you had five brothers and one sister, you never had any private things. So he really wanted to keep this one. Until, of course, he caught a spy. Someone that had known all along about his private nightly visits. Someone who watched. Somehow, he felt violated. It was a raw, primal, instinctive, feeling and he wanted the spy to feel it worse than he did. That's what made him do it.  
  
  
  
"Damnit! You stupid bastard. What gives you the right!" his angry voice echoed off the stone walls, making it sound almost menacing, the kind of voice that would freeze your soul, had it been coming from someone with black hair, dark eyes, a black cape, you know the deal. A diabolical fiend. Definitely not Ron Weasley.  
  
Slap! "Unnhhh!" The shorter boy's cry of pain rang through the room, bringing, not help or relief, but more beating. Five and a half years of pent up anger and hate were exploding through each strike. He had only been discovered minutes ago, but he could already feel his whole body bruising, his face receiving the brunt of the attack. "Please, stop, please." He choked out the last part through a mouthful of his own blood.  
  
As he looked at the bloodied and bruised blond cowering on the ground, Ron felt wonderful. He had the other boy completely under his control. He could feel the power racing through his veins; it was more than just adrenaline. It was intoxicating. And he couldn't stop now. He wanted the boy to be even more under his control. He wanted the boy to fear him, to be ashamed of himself, and be utterly humiliated. But how?  
  
As he stared into the eyes of Draco Malfoy, the one he and his friends had almost feared for five years, he laughed out loud. Just to look at him now, bloody and crying in the corner, made him feel even more in power, if that was possible. And that train of thought was what brought on the final shaming of Draco. Ron was thinking of packs of wild animals, how some will kill an overthrown leader, yet others...  
  
Ron picked up his wand from where it had fallen when he had first seen Draco. The blond boys eyes widened in fear as the wand was pointed at him. But suddenly, he felt himself being lifted, and pulled across the room. He landed kneeling in front of the only piece of furniture in the unused room, a large, soft, crimson, and armchair. He was facing it, but before he could turn around, the taller redhead was behind him. He could hear him breathing louder and faster than he had been before, and he was moving closer, and yet even closer. When he was right behind him, spooning his shaking body, he ripped the back of his robes, right down the middle. By the time Draco realized what was going to happen, it was too late.  
  
Ron was completely intoxicated by the feeling of control he had, while ripping the other boys clothes off. He could almost taste the fear, and that was a powerful aphrodisiac. He grabbed the hem of his own robes and pulled them off, shoving Draco down onto the perfectly stuffed chair.   
  
Draco's asshole was almost too tight for Ron to enter, be as he thrusted, he could feel himself going deeper. Draco's sobs were coming between gasps of pain, now. He could feel his flesh tearing as Ron thrusted. But now there were two other feelings, different from the fear and pain. One was utter and complete humiliation. The other was pleasure.  
  
Ron was breathing in short, quick gasps now, groaning as he pushed himself deeper into Draco. Draco was rocking back and forth, as well, unconsciously increasing Ron's please along with his own. Ron could feel himself start to come only seconds before spasms wracked his body. In the throes of ecstasy, he released streams of warm cum into Draco, who could feel the hot liquids flowing into him. He came seconds after, onto the ruins of his best robes.  
  
As Ron finally began to pull out, both boys could feel Draco's blood, now mixed with Ron's cum, run down their legs. The ecstasy gone completely, Draco could feel the pain return full force. He slid to the ground, sitting in a growing puddle of the warm red liquid. Ron pulled his robes back on, grabbed the cloak, and his wand, and left, confident in his supremacy.  
  
  
  
  
  
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  
  
Well, what do you think? See that handy dandy little review box? Yeah, well...click on it and tell me all about my story. And while you're at it...go read my other stories, too!!!! 


	2. The Next Day or Harry is Nosy

Well, I had never really thought about the idea of doing another chapter to this, even though I had several reviews asking for another one. What actually prompted me to write this follow up, was a beautiful review that I received anonymously. It read: *runs to the bathroom and throws up*. Oddly enough, whoever wrote this is the one to be thanked if you actually like this little story. I hereby dedicate this, and all possible other chapters following any and all of my slash stories to , and all the others who have ever read one of my stories and then blamed me for the harm they've done to their fragile little minds, even though they all read the stories of their own accord. No one forced them to, yet the poor, miserable little author gets all the blame. And sometimes her stories are removed from ff.net, also because someone read it despite the abundant warnings. But this is my inspiration, so thank you all who have done that, are doing that to this story, and will do that to any other story they will ever read from now on. Thanks.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Harry Potter and all related items do not belong to me. You can sue me if you want to, though. No really. Sue me. It'll be funny. Even if you do win, which you won't, all you'll get is like...an alarm clock that doesn't keep proper time, a collection of glass elephant figurines worth about $25 all together, and a care bears doll of Grumpy Bear. So go ahead and sue me.  
  
  
Oh, by the way. There's really no warning needed for this chapter, unless you don't want to hear about Draco doing manual labor. Or if you have a mirror-phobia...  
  
Oh, one more thing. You know those binoculars that Harry and Ron got and the Quidditch World Series? What were those called? I put Omnoculars down, but that doesn't seem quite right...  
***  
  
Safe in the bathrooms of Gryffindor tower, Ron stared at the blood on his hands. It was starting to dry now and was tacky and dark red, but in his mind's eye, it was bright red, and dripping all over everything. He couldn't believe what had just happened. But he did know one thing for sure. No one could ever know about this. Ever.  
  
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Draco stood jerkily from where he had been lying on the floor of the tower. He had heard Ron had run out nearly twenty minutes prior, but he hadn't really known what to do, so he had just collapsed to the floor, waiting for something. He hadn't even known what he was waiting for, but he knew he had to stay right there and wait or he'd miss it. It had finally come, and now it was time to get cleaned up to begin his revenge. It had to be slow and subtle, because no one could ever know about this. Ever.  
  
~~  
  
The morning dawned bright and clear, the spring air wonderfully warm. Harry had risen early to go fly on the Quidditch pitch like he did every Saturday, but something had kept his feet on the ground that day. To an extent. Instead of his usual laps and loops, Harry had taken himself and his school bag to the very top of the stands, to sit and think and write and draw and whatever else he happened to want to do that morning.  
  
He wasn't what you would call an excellent artist, but he had drawn a picture of the castle that morning that he knew was amazing. Sitting there adding extra features, like the crack that ran down the side of the Astronomy tower, and the ivy that grew up around the bottom, he had a feeling of contentment. He kept looking at the Astronomy tower to get that crack just right, when he saw movement in one of the rooms. Knowing that it wasn't a class, since it was Saturday morning, and that it wasn't a teacher since the Astronomy class room, the only used room in that tower, was at the very top and this was three floors below, he became rather curious. Putting his things back in his backpack, he pulled out his wand and summoned his Omnoculars from his trunk.  
  
In the few minutes that it took them to arrive, Harry had decided that whoever was in that room was probably doing something of ill-intention. When they did arrive, he was certain. In the little unused room, Draco Malfoy was kneeling on the ground in what looked like muggle clothing doing something Harry had never *ever* expected to see. He was scrubbing the floor. And he had a pile of robes near by that Harry could tell were all ripped up. And he was talking to himself. Harry was just about to rise and fly over to the window when Draco stood.  
  
Draco threw the scrub brush into the bucket and bent down to grab the robes. As Harry looked on, he couldn't help but notice how nice the view of Draco bending over was. Then he shook his head and was momentarily disgusted with himself for thinking that, and went back to watching whatever it was that Malfoy was doing. He was at the balcony window now, with his wand out. He pointed his wand, with his left hand, Harry noticed, and threw the robes over the edge. He shouted something, and a single golden spark leapt out of the end of his wand into the robes, which burst into flames. By the time they hit the ground, there was nothing but ashes, which blew away in the slight spring wind.  
  
Draco continued to stand on the balcony for quite a while, just staring off into the horizon. Harry fidgeted, then decided to zoom in further. He hit the zoom button, and his view of Draco grew closer and closer. Then he had to stop and back it up because he was too close. Draco was life-sized now, as if he was standing right next to Harry, instead of three hundred yards away. His hair wasn't fixed, his clothes, that were very much muggle as they featured a soccer team, were grimy and wet and stained, his hands were raw and red from the labor they were unused to, and his face...Harry stopped there and took the Omnoculars down for a moment. Was Draco Malfoy, the heartless bastard...crying? Harry drew up the Omnoculars again. It was true. He was crying. And on top of that, he looked as if he had gotted the shit beat out of him. He had a black eye and a slpit lip, and dried blood all around his nose and mouth, save for streaked where his tears had fallen.  
  
Harry again let hs hands drop the Omnoculars to his lap. He could no longer sit idly by. Malfoy was in some sort of trouble, and even though he was Malfoy, Harry knew he had to do something about it. He put the Omnoculars in his bag along with everything else, looped it's strap over his shoulder, and grapped his Firebolt. Knowing full well that Malfoy would run away from him if he flew in through the balcony, Harry dropped low and flew around to the backside of the tower. He would go in a different room, and simply walk up the stairs to Malfoy.  
  
The first room Harry tried to land in, two floors below where he knew Malfoy would be, was slightly occupied with a few fifth years in a rather incriminating position. Harry, blushing slightly more than they were, flew up another floor. The room he was in now, besides being thankfully unoccupied, was perhaps the most interesting room he had ever been in, save Dumbledore's office. All around the room, on shelves of different shapes and sizes, were feathers. Not just any feathers, but Pheonix feathers, it looked like. Each was standing on end, and smoking slightly. Behind each shelf was some sort of mirror, that refused to reflect the smoke and slight flames given off by the feathers. They all also refused to reflect Harry's scar, his school bag, and the Gryffindor insignia on his unbuttoned robes. Some of them also were not reflecting different bits of the room as well. It was as if they were all picking and choosing what they would reflect, and what they wouldn't. Harry decided that he'd come back and get one some time. Bordering the doorway were more mirrors, those bearing some sort of symbols around the edges. He figured that they were words, or at least that they meant something, but he couldn't figure out what they were. He heard a door creak open and then back shut somewhere below him, and that snapped him out of his wonderment at the mirrors and feathers. He had to get to Draco before he left.  
  
  
  
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I'm sorry this is kind of short, but I don't have time to type anymore today. I have decided to upload this as is, though, in hopes that I get a few measly reviews.   
  
P.S. If you were the one who left the 'throws up' review---Why are you here? You didn't like the first part, so why read the second? You people never cease to amaze me. If I don't like a story, I usually won't finish it. 


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